What it Takes to be a Tensai
by Ichimarugyrl24
Summary: Just what exactly makes someone a tensai? And is Fuji Syuusuke really one himself, even though he has always been called one? Could he actually be an imposter? Is someone like Tezuka a tensai instead? Just a short fic about some confusion Fuji may be feeling when it comes to his talent on the courts in comparison to his teammates and their rivals.


**A/N**: This was inspired by a conversation from my Art class this morning (January 29th). My professor asked what really makes someone a genius. Was it because someone had talent, or was it because they had passion and love for what they did? And that spawned a whole_ list_ of ideas that I could use for Fuji, since he had never really invested himself in tennis, and had never really been the best at what he did, despite being called a tensai (genius). And this is what I came up with (even though I'm super tired and snuck it in during my shift at work). So I hope you like it and kind of understand where I was coming from with it, despite the slightly confusing set-up. But it's supposed to be like Fuji's thoughts, so they should be a _little _confusing, considering he would be confused himself.

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What was a tensai, really? Was it someone who possessed a natural talent that far surpassed most others' skills? Was it someone who could breeze through what they did without so much as a _speck_ of effort on their part? Was it someone who had pressure pushed upon them, _constantly_, to succeed, just because they could retain information and strategize better than their peers?

Was it someone like Fuji Syuusuke?

No, it couldn't be. If he was a tensai, then what was Tezuka? What was Echizen? Or Atobe? Or Yukimura? Or any of the other middle school tennis players who could utterly _destroy _him in a match?

If he was a tensai, and they were better than him, then what were they?

What was _he_, really? Sure, he was a lot better at tennis than most of them, and with hardly any work could he beat them, but that didn't really make him a tensai... did it?

Of course not. If that were the case, then he would be the best tennis player at Seigaku. He would be able to beat Tezuka, injured or not, whenever he so wished. He would be able to challenge Echizen and win within a few minutes' time. He would be able to become buchou of his team, to lead all of his friends, to show everyone just how much of a tensai he _was_, to make them proud of him.

But there was just one little hump he had yet to overcome when it came to tennis: he lacked passion. And it probably all stemmed from the fact that no matter how hard he trained, no matter how hard he practiced, no matter how hard he _played, _he could never beat them.

Tezuka, Echizen, Atobe, Yukimura, Sanada... the list went on and on. And the result was the same every time. He would be left sprawled across the court, his lungs _screaming _for air, his heart beating so fast he thought it would finally give out on him, his face soaked with tears of frustration and disappointment.

He was no tensai.

Because a tensai would never struggle; a tensai would never lose; a tensai would never let everyone down with their utter _uselessness_.

Fuji Syuusuke would _never_ be a tensai, no matter _how _many times people called him one.

The _real_ tensais were the ones he strived to beat. The ones who were considered some of the best in the country; the ones who never lost, even though they had to train day-in and day-out to achieve that state; the ones who had _true_ passion for the game—who _loved_ it. He had _never _loved tennis, or anything, really.

So why did he continue to play?

Maybe it was to prove to everyone that he wasn't what they thought he was. If he was _truly_ a tensai, then he would be the _best_. And he very clearly wasn't that.

Maybe it was to show everyone that there was more to him than his tennis skill. Because he had emotions, too; he was a human just like them; he had other aspirations than to just play tennis every second of the day for the rest of his life.

Or maybe it was a way for him to prove to himself that, quite possibly, he _could_ be a tensai. If the day ever came when he defeated Tezuka, then that would be the day he would _truly_ be a tensai, because he would have overcome the ones who were so much better than him. And that was _not_ a sentence a tensai should _ever _have to say.

A tensai was the _best_, no matter what.

Yuuta always complained that he had no idea what it was like to have so much pressure put on him, but little did he know that his aniki had just as much pressure himself. No one ever saw them as themselves: Fuji Syuusuke and Fuji Yuuta. They were only, and would ever be, regarded as the _tensai _Fuji Syuusuke and his less-talented otouto. Never did anyone appreciate them for who they were.

All they saw was _tennis_.

It was a terrible sport, really. People were always getting hurt, pushing themselves beyond their limits, overreacting to stupid little rivalries that would die the second they left the court. And yet they still played it to no end.

It was because they loved it, though, unlike him. They loved the rush that burst through them when they scored a point; they loved the close-knit relationship the court provided in the middle of a doubles match; they loved the synchro; they loved the victories; they loved the push—the struggle; they loved to play.

But he hated it all.

Tennis had never granted him instant gratification like other things did. And at first, it felt nice. He actually had to _work _to get where he was, and at no small expense either. All of his time was spent honing his skills, so that one day he might be the best.

But after two years of no progress, he grew frustrated. He just _couldn't_ surpass Tezuka. Tennis had become the _one_ thing he struggled through. School was no problem, because he learned everything with the snap of a finger. And it was no surprise that he was the best piano player, and possibly the best musician _period_, in the whole school.

But tennis was his one true weakness. The only thing he wished to excel at, despite his hatred for it, was the _only_ thing he couldn't perfect. And after fourteen years of getting _everything_ his way in the blink of an eye, without putting in _any_ sort of effort, he was _more _than livid with himself.

But that was because he always worked so _hard_, and unlike any other time, received no satisfaction in return. He was let down every single time he stepped outside for practice. And a _game_—that was twice as bad, because there were usually _hundreds_ of people there to watch him fail. And Fuji Syuusuke _never _failed.

But that was why he wasn't really a tensai. Otherwise he would be perfect—in _everything_. Sure, he was a looker, and he was sweet and kind to everyone, but what did that matter when he couldn't even accomplish something as a simple as winning a _tennis _game? What was really so intriguing about his life when he, a supposed tensai, couldn't even do what people expected of him? Why did he always let everyone down? Why was he never good enough? What was he missing?

Could it be that love—that _passion_? Was he terrible because he had never really put his whole self into it; because he had just _assumed_ that he could breeze through it like he did with everything else? Had he distanced himself from the _true_ experience, the deep feelings, because he thought it would just be another thing to pass the time with? Another thing for him to excel at, to grow bored with, because that was all he had ever known? Had he missed his chance to become a _true _tensai, because he had never given it his all and loved every second of it along the way?

Had he _really _become that vain to assume that tennis was a matter of his mind and not the investment put into it?

Then that would mean all of the other regulars were tensais in their own right, because no matter the circumstances, they played as best as they could, with a wild fire of determination burning in their hearts, and a will to win that was more than he could ever _dream_ to have. And win or lose, they still loved what they did, when all he could do was brood and sulk and _scream _at himself for being an utter failure.

So in all actuality, being a tensai wasn't really what he had been brought up to believe, _after_ _all_. Maybe a tensai was someone who devoted their life to the things they loved the most. Maybe a tensai was someone who gave it their all, victory or loss, and cherished every sweet second they spent doing it. Maybe a tensai was someone who didn't need gratification, because just being a part of what they loved was enough for them to be happy.

Maybe Fuji Syuusuke was unintentionally a tensai when it came to loathing himself.

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**A/N**: So it's kind of short, but I thought it was really the perfect length to say what I wanted to say. Now all I ask is for your feedback. Was it all right? Did you like it? Or maybe it horribly sucked. Please let me know! I would love to tweak it and make it better if I can! Review!


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